Salina smiles and I follow her gaze to the far end of the room w
here a low table rests. Above it are a pair of leather straps hanging from formidable chains. Behind the table, the wall is covered with oddly shaped rubber phalli. Underneath each are identifying numbers.
“Yes, Salina. Show the Doctor your collection.”
We move toward the table.
“As you’re aware, Dr. Greta does a very thorough job of scanning and measuring our laborers when they arrive here. Included is a very accurate magnetic image of their back passage and prostate glands. From that a computer controlled machine mills a nice dildo for each boy. Good boys deserve a little pleasure and on occasion I’ll open them up and give their underutilized prostates a good massaging. The bumps and ridges are custom designed to match their anatomies. Therefore every stroke manipulates that interesting male gland with great precision. You’d be surprised at their reaction. I have quite the collection of young whores here, Doctor.”
Salina laughs with the comparison and I begin to better understand the utility of the leather device under her sarong.
“We have time for a demonstration, Salina.”
For some reason I have the impression that the demonstration is not entirely for my benefit, particularly when I see the gleam in Lady Constance’s mischievous eyes.
Salina reacts with enthusiasm and a smile.
“I think my trouble makers need to cool a bit. Let me get them out of the sun.”
Salina leaves and within minutes returns. The three recalcitrant males walk very slowly. The metal yokes are apparently very heavy and it appears just remaining upright requires considerable effort.
Number 25, according to his brand, is secured to the generator, an interesting procedure which involves moving to time with the rotating capstan while Salina connects his yoke to the end of the metal pole. When finished, the cane swishes and 25 jumps and begins pushing in earnest.
“It’s the table for you, 32. And 15, you know what I’ll need.”
Both males move toward the table. Number 32 seems to approach with a degree of renewed vigor. But when he stands at the edge and tries to lower himself, the weight of the yoke causes him to drop face downward. Salina laughs.
“The yokes are close to one hundred pounds. Doesn’t imbue them with much grace.”
The large woman bends over, picks up each end of the yoke and turns it end for end. The head and hands of the helpless 32 move with it, as does his torso, hips and legs.
“Good boy. Legs up and 15 will give you a nice tongue massage.”
In a well practiced move, 32 lifts his legs and Salina draws them further back until his knees are just about over his face. There she loops the leather straps around his thighs, holding them high and well apart. This affords a most sordid view of 32's massive scrotum. The testicles are not ringed as with the ponies but there are two rivets penetrating the bottom of the sac to facilitate restraint and stretching.
Salina kicks the back of number 15's legs and he comically falls to his knees. She gruffly tangles her hand into his matted hair and directs his head, laden with the heavy yoke, between the widely separated thighs of 32.
“You know what to do. Your confederate needs your assistance, otherwise Salina’s big stick may just split his bung hole wide open.”
Salina laughs as the servile male thrusts out his tongue and begins servicing the supine number 32. He slowly licks until Salina lifts the large pink bag of flesh and better exposes the lad’s ‘bung hole’. A swish of the cane incentivizes number 15 to apply his tongue to that most undesirable area.
“Yes. Lubricate it real well.”
Salina walks to the wall and removes a large rubber dildo with the number “32" under it. It’s an ungainly implement. But as stated it has been computer milled to precisely agitate the desired areas and organs. Salina next attaches to the bottom of the specially made phallus another rubber device. Judging from its bowed appearance, its purpose is apparent. Various nubs are purely for the pleasure of the female and as Salina returns to the base of the table where number 15 dutifully applies his tongue, she rips off her sarong. Underneath is nothing more than a very thick leather belt with equally strong straps. Two hold in place the top of a formidable patch over her pubes. A third runs between her buttocks and up to the bottom of the patch. Salina’s hands adjust the straps and insert the large dildo through a hole in the patch. The female end of the long device is swallowed up by Salina’s sex. The male end protrudes menacingly and the look of self satisfaction on Salina’s face hints at the pleasure she anticipates in penetrating her young ‘whore’.
“Lick.”
She pulls back on number 15's head then grasps each end of the strip of metal strip encasing the head and hands. The long tongue obediently thrusts forward and the tip systematically begins applying short laps to the rubber surface. Salina waits patiently then slowly pushes forward with her hips. Amazingly, the huge shaft enters the lad’s mouth and begins to disappear. Slight gagging sounds can be heard. Salina pauses, cruelly thrusts an inch or two, withdraws and deeply thrusts again. She penetrates the throat of number 15 and it is apparent that she has spent much time training him to control his gag reflex.
“Good boy.”
Salina pushes away the heavy yoke. The naked male’s head and shoulders fall to the floor with a thud. Salina kicks his testicles.
“Stay.”
With a smile she turns to the supine number 32.
“He’s a young one, Lady Constance. Nice and tight, but 15 is good in lubricating my little whores.”